Elen atarwa
by Kazaera
Summary: Part 1 of my Elrond series. Elrond overhears what happened to his father Eärendil, and is very upset... Gil-galad comforts him (NOT slash!). Chapter 4 now up, Eärendil's pov. Complete.
1. An overheard conversation

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, not a single thing *sniff*  
  
A/N: This happens before my previous story, Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima, although they can both stand alone. To those who read that, no, this isn't the fic where I cheer Elrond up (obviously, since it's before, not after…) - that'll come next. BTW, can anyone who has the Silmarillion tell me what Gil-galad was *doing* after the battle of Sirion? Or where he lived during that time?  
  
BTW, the title is Quenya and means "father's star", although it might be "elen ataro" instead – not sure.  
  
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Elrond ran down the corridors. His footsteps didn't make a sound due to his elven ancestors – a fact that he was proud of, although he needed to concentrate on it more than ordinary elven children. Unfortunately, the same thing was true for his brother. "Elros! Where are you?" he called. Nothing. His brother had run off around bedtime… again. It wasn't Elrond's duty to find him – actually, he should be going to bed too – but he'd spent too much time caring for his younger sibling to stop now. He opened his mouth to call out again, but stopped. He heard voices up ahead. Gil- galad and some courtiers, he guessed. Gil-galad, high king of the Noldor. The distant relation that had taken them in, and cared for them so well. Elrond was grateful, but found it difficult to trust the elven king… trust came hard, nowadays. It was probably an aftereffect of all he'd gone through, of seeing things no child should see, but Elrond somehow felt ashamed of himself, that he couldn't give the king the trust he deserved.  
  
Elrond peered around a pillar, seeing the king standing nearby, his back to the young half-elf. The child could hear every word of what he was saying, but it didn't seem very interesting. Still, Elrond didn't want to leave, so he stayed, somewhat guiltily.  
  
"My lord! A messenger comes, with news of the war – and of Eärendil." Elrond's heart leapt. Through the ruin of Sirion, through his flight in the forest, throughout everything that had happened to him, he'd clung to the hope that his father would come back. Elrond could hardly remember his father, but he recalled that those had been happy times, that he had known how to trust. Elrond hoped, fervently as only a young child could, that his father would return, would scoop him up in his and make everything be all right. That mother would come back too, and would smile at him and Elros, and would somehow erase what had happened, the smell of burnt flesh in the ruins of his home, the pangs of hunger alone in the forest. Elwing hadn't paid much attention to her children before – the Silmaril had been growing on her mind – but Elrond hoped. And now, it seemed, that hope had paid off.  
  
"Send him in." That was Gil-galad's voice, harsh with emotions. Normally Elrond would have tried to analyze those emotions, would have tried to observe what the king thought. He was good at watching, at putting things together. But now, Elrond was far too excited to think of anything but his father.  
  
A young, dark-haired elf entered and knelt. "Greetings, my lord. I bring news of Eärendil son of Tuor, of Elwing daughter of Dior and of her Silmaril."  
  
Silmaril. The accursed name burnt in Elrond's thoughts. He hated the jewels with a passion. It was Elwing's Silmaril that led her to ignore her sons, it was the Silmaril that had brought the sons of Fëanor down upon them. It was the Silmaril that had destroyed Elrond's life.  
  
The messenger continued. "It is a long tale. Elwing flew in the shape of a gull to her husband, Eärendil. They came west, to Valinor, to beg the Valar to interfere in the war. They succeeded."  
  
Elrond heard relieved gasps and cheers around him, but he hardly cared. He knew he should care, that this could decide the fate of Arda, but at the moment it didn't matter to him. 'What of my mother… my father?' he thought furiously. 'Where are they?'  
  
"However, Elwing and Eärendil were forbidden to return again, ever. I do not know exactly how it came about, but Eärendil now sails the skies, with the Silmaril upon his brow, a bright star. Elwing flies to meet him on feathered wings."  
  
Elrond heard nothing more, although he was dimly aware of the messenger leaving and of Gil-galad saying something. the words repeating themselves over and over in his head. Forbidden to return… a star… forbidden to return… he would never see his father again, nor his mother. Hope shattered in his breast, and Elrond fought against tears that threatened to overwhelm him. 'No… I won't cry… I won't,' he thought, biting his lip. But it was to no avail, and a broken sob escaped from his throat.  
  
"…Elrond?" Gil-galad turned around, staring at the half-elf. Elrond stared back for a moment, tears welling in his eyes, then turned and ran away. He heard Gil-galad calling him again, but didn't listen, running as fast as his feet would take him. His steps thudded loudly against the stone floor, then against grass – he was outside.  
  
Without thinking, Elrond ran over to his favorite tree, a willow standing near one side of the garden. He loved to sit there at night and watch the stars. They always comforted him, staying the same no matter what happened – their serene dance a constant in his turbulent life. So he looked upwards tonight as well, and saw the new star. It shone with the light of mother's Silmaril… Elrond sank down to the ground, crying. "Father," he whispered in between sobs. "Father…"  
  
Someone picked him up and embraced him tightly. It was Gil-galad. Ordinarily, Elrond would have pulled away, mistrustful and guilty at his mistrust - Gil-galad was a kind and noble elf who deserved Elrond's trust. But today, the young half-elf wasn't capable of doing more than sobbing, tears soaking the king's shirt. He was dimly aware of Gil-galad whispering soothing words to him, but he only cried harder.  
  
After an age – or so it seemed – the tears stopped, leaving Elrond hugged against Gil-galad's chest. He would've said something, would've tried to apologize for breaking down like that, but he was too tired… he fell asleep in the king's arms.  
  
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A/N: Aww… how cute. I'll try to do Gil-galad's pov next – that one will feature an appearance by Elros, for all you Elros-fans. I'm not sure on Eärendil's pov, but I suppose I'll manage. Poor Eärendil will probably be *very* upset.  
  
Some notes: As said before, I haven't actually read the Silmarillion, but taken all my information from various fanfics around here. So, my information may be incorrect. It's slightly AU in that Elrond didn't go to Maglor after the destruction of Sirion – I wanted to work that into here, but I'm having enough problems describing all the conflicting emotions as it is. Next fic, my friends, next fic. Also, I'm not sure what happens to Elwing – I believe AngelsFall said she waits for Eärendil in Valinor – but I thought leaving her as a gull would be cooler ;)  
  
Please review! :) 


	2. So alike, yet so different

Disclaimer: see chapt 1  
  
A/N: Thank you *so* much for the reviews, Avelera, shirebound, they make it much easier to keep going. :)  
  
I get the impression that I should've said this in chapt. 1, but this fic will be a bit hard to understand if you've never read the Silmarillion, or at least some Sil-based fics. So, I'm going to give you a very brief summary: Elrond and Elros lived with their mother Elwing in Sirion. She had a Silmaril (long story that, it was handed down to her from Luthien.) The sons of Fëanor had sworn an oath to recover the Silmarils, so they sent a messenger asking/demanding for the Silmaril's return. Elwing refused, they attacked. They conquered Sirion, but when they reached Elwing she threw herself out of a window into the ocean with the Silmaril. She got turned into a gull by the Valar Ulmo and flew west. Happy?  
  
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Gil-galad was standing in the hallway, talking with some courtiers. The High King sighed inwardly… he was not at all fond of all the duties that came with the title. Tedious, tedious. Gil-galad thought of himself as a warrior, not a ruler, and all the responsibilities, all the meetings and all the diplomatic necessities annoyed him to no end. So he he felt relieved when someone entered, and excused himself rather hurriedly.  
  
"My lord! A messenger comes with news of the war – and of Eärendil." Gil- galad swallowed at the last bit. After the ruin of Sirion, he had taken in the two orphaned – or so he had thought – sons or Eärendil. He'd grown to love the two, and had banished the possibility of Eärendil's return from his mind. After all, the man hadn't been seen for quite a while. He had probably perished on the open seas. Yet now a messenger came, bearing news of him… Gil-galad knew he should be glad that the man had survived, but Eärendil would probably demand the return of his sons. The king wouldn't have minded as much, though it would have torn at his heart, but he knew the mariner's nature and knew that the call of the sea overrode all other calls for him. Elrond and Elros deserved a loving father who cared for them, not a man who gave his ship more attention than his family. 'Calm yourself,' Gil-galad chastised himself. 'The messenger bears news of the war, and that is most important right now.' Yet when he commanded the servant to send the messenger in, his voice was harsh with anger and grief at the thought of losing the two children.  
  
A young elf came in, kneeling in front of his king. Gil-galad felt slightly ill at the sight, and wanted to bid the messenger to rise – the elf wasn't much younger than the king himself. But he'd have to get used to this, he'd be king for the rest of his life, after all. And the messenger looked too tired to stand. "Greetings, my lord. I bring news of Eärendil son of Tuor, of Elwing daughter of Dior and of her Silmaril."  
  
Both of the boys' parents. Gil-galad shoved away thoughts of them now, of the laughing face of Elros as he ran through the garden, and of Elrond's slight form curled up on a chair in the library, reading a book that was almost larger than he was… 'Stop it,' he thought. He needed to be objective now. Neutral. A king. The Silmaril… what had happened to the Silmaril? That was the important thing at the moment, where the wrath of the Kinslayers would go next.  
  
"It is a long tale. Elwing flew in the shape of a gull to her husband, Eärendil." That was one for Elrond. No one had believed the young boy when he'd claimed his mother had jumped out of the window and turned into a seagull. True, no one had been able to find a trace of the woman afterwards, but a gull? Surely a child's imagination. Or so they'd thought.  
  
"They came west, to Valinor, to beg the Valar to interfere in the war. They succeeded."  
  
There was a stunned silence. The Valar had held themselves aloof from the proceedings in Arda before, although the war was being lost. Now that they would aid in the fight against Morgoth, the fight was as good as won. The Valar were very powerful… everyone started cheering. Could it be that the war would finally end? After all the years, the deaths? Gil-galad knew he had a wide, idiotic-looking grin on his face, but he didn't care.  
  
The messenger's voice cut through the clamor. "However, Elwing and Eärendil were forbidden to return again, ever. I do not know exactly how it came about, but Eärendil now sails the skies, with the Silmaril upon his brow, a bright star. Elwing flies to meet him on feathered wings." Gil-galad knew he should have felt sorrow at that, but he was relieved. Elrond's parents weren't dead – neither of them had done anything to deserve Gil-galad's wishing them in the Halls of Mandos – but they wouldn't return for their sons. A stab of guilt interrupted his thoughts, how could he be glad of their fate? After all, they had saved Arda.  
  
"I am sure that you are tired from the long journey," he said to the messenger. "Go now and rest, Calimacil here will show you where you can stay." The young elf stood and bowed, almost falling over in exhaustion, before leaving. The other courtiers also started to take their leave.  
  
"Well, that is better news than we could have hoped for," Gil-galad remarked – he wasn't sure to whom. "The Valar aiding in the war, cause for much rejoicing I should say. Now the only thing remaining is – how will I break the last part of the news to…" Keen elven ears picked up a stifled sob from behind him. "…Elrond?" he said in astonishment, turning around to meet the young half-elf's tear-filled eyes. Eärendil's son had overheard the whole conversation.  
  
Gil-galad knew his emotions must be written on his face – surprise at seeing the youngster there – he should be in bed! – anger at himself for not being more careful, and at Elrond for eavesdropping in the first place, worry – how would the child cope with the information – sorrow, that the young one who'd gone through so much already would have to hear the fate of his parents like this, a thousand more emotions flitted through his head.  
  
Elrond turned and ran away.  
  
"Elrond!" Gil-galad called, but the half-elf didn't slow or turn around. Muttering a curse beneath his breath, the king ran after him. Elrond's footsteps echoed loudly through the halls, it was easy to follow. 'If he walks that loudly, why didn't I hear him when he came?' Gil-galad thought to himself. Now he was outside, the starlight he was named for shining into his eyes. He couldn't hear Elrond's footsteps anymore, so he slowed down. Was that a dark shape huddled beneath one tree? Soft sobs floated to his ears.  
  
With several swift steps, Gil-galad was next to Elrond and picked him up, hugging him tightly. The young half-elf was crying bitterly, the occasional muffled "father" audible between sobs. Gil-galad stroked the child's hair and whispered soothing words into his ear. "Sh… it'll be all right…" a lie, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Gil-galad felt horribly guilty – he'd been so relieved when he'd heard that Eärendil and Elwing could never return. He hadn't thought of the effect that information would have upon an abandoned child… but who would've thought how much Elrond missed his father, someone who'd barely cared for him? Yet Elrond had lost so much in his short life, maybe the thought of his father returning had been a secret, childlike hope, a link to better days. He didn't deserve to have that torn away too.  
  
With a start, Gil-galad realized that Elrond had stopped crying and had fallen asleep. He would've preferred to stay sitting beneath the tree, cradling the youngster in his arms, but a soft voice brought him out his thoughts. "Ada, why brother crying?"  
  
Gil-galad looked to the side to see the younger of the siblings standing next to him. Elros stared back at him, with all the seriousness a half- elven child barely old enough to walk could manage. Not much like the little troublemaker. Elros had never caused him as much worry as Elrond, the youngster had adapted quickly to his new surroundings, and had begun calling Gil-galad 'ada' only shortly after the ruin of Sirion – much to his older brother's chagrin. "It's a long story," he responded quietly, not wanting to wake Elrond. "Do you remember your father? Not me, your real father?" Elros shook his head. "'rond talk of him, but I don't remember."  
  
"Well, today we heard what happened to him." Gil-galad searched for words to describe what had happened. "Do you see that star up there? The bright one?" He would've pointed, but he had his arms full. "Yes." Elros nodded solemnly.  
  
"Your father turned into that star." The child squeaked softly. "How someone turn into a star?"  
  
"He is sailing in a ship. He carries a bright jewel, that's why he's glowing." Elros absorbed that information. "So why 'rond crying?"  
  
"Your father can never come back. He'll be sailing for the rest of time, and your brother misses him." Elrond stirred in Gil-galad's arms. "Hush now, you're waking your brother. It's time for you both to go to bed." He stood up, wondering at how light the child was. Hadn't he been eating right? Elrond had been horribly thin when Gil-galad found the siblings, in the forests outside Sirion, but that was a while ago now. "Come along now." Elros sighed and Gil-galad stifled a chuckle. The young boy's reluctance to go to bed was amazing. The elves with the duty of watching him had a nice chase every night. Amazingly, he came willingly. Maybe he was worried about his brother – after all they'd gone through, their bond was probably stronger than that of normal siblings.  
  
In the brothers' room – they'd insisted on a room together – Elros dropped onto the bed, climbed under the covers and promptly fell asleep. Gil-galad grinned, he'd obviously been more tired than he'd let on. He put Elrond down gently on the second bed in the room and tucked him in, dropping a kiss onto his forehead – something he wouldn't have dared to if Elrond were awake.  
  
Gil-galad sat down in a chair standing near the beds and looked at the two. Their eyes were closed, sleeping like mortals, although he knew they could dream like Elves as well, they just had to concentrate more than ordinary Elves. They looked very alike, straight dark hair spread out on the pillow, the same face – elven-fair yet with the roundness of the Secondborn. One would almost guess them twins, except for the age. Yet even in sleep one could see the differences. Elros slept sprawled on the bed with a small smile on his face, the glow of his spirit somehow shining through. It would take a lot to keep that one down, he was cheerful no matter what happened. Of course, maybe that was only because of his young age, but Gil-galad hoped that Elros would retain that joy.  
  
His brother was lying curled in a little ball, tear-stains glimmering in the starlight. When he slept, the mask Elrond tried to keep up so hard dropped and his vulnerability showed through. Sometimes it seemed as if Elrond took the sorrows of both siblings onto himself to spare his brother any anguish. Gil-galad sighed. So alike, yet so different. And he loved them both as if they were his own sons.  
  
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A/N: Well, that's Gil-galad's pov! Eärendil's next, I guess. It'll be difficult, especially as I guess Eärendil can only see and hear what happens outside.  
  
Another question for anyone who's read the Silmarillion – does it say exactly *when* Glorfindel returns from the Halls of Mandos? Just thinking if I can get young Elrond to meet Glorfindel! ;)  
  
Well, that aside, I hope you enjoyed the story! The name Calimacil is a merger of the Quenya words "calima" bright and "macil" sword *shrugs* I wasn't sure what to call him. And as said before, this story is slightly AU.  
  
Also as said before, I haven't read the Silmarillion so all of what I write may be incorrect – especially regarding the Valar's involvement in the war, etc. Please forgive these trangressions.  
  
Please review… please? 


	3. I'll watch out for you

Disclaimer: Seriously, does *anyone* ever read these who doesn't know what it's going to say? Why do we even bother. *sigh* well, if you really want to know, then see chapter 1.  
  
A/N: Thankyouthankyouthankyou *so* much for all the nice reviews! You really don't know how much they help me continue… I meant to do Eärendil next, but that one's turning out pretty difficult. So, here's Elros' pov!  
  
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Elros snuck through the gardens, pleased with himself. Not only had he managed to evade his caretakers – which wasn't as easy as it used to be, they were getting better! – but he'd even managed to lose his brother in the hallways of the palace. And that wasn't easy at all – Elrond had the annoying habit of somehow always knowing exactly where to look for his younger brother. And that wasn't fun at all when everyone insisted that he should go to bed. Why go to bed? He wasn't tired – a yawn interrupted that thought – well, maybe a bit. But not much. Certainly not enough to go to bed yet!  
  
The half-elven child froze. He thought he'd been alone out here, but wasn't that a shape sitting at the foot of that willow? Walking forward very quietly – a trick he'd picked up from his brother – he saw that the shape was Gil-galad – Ada – holding someone. His brother.  
  
Elros snuck towards the two, curious. What was Elrond doing out here, why was Ada holding him? Elrond didn't like to be touched, he knew, not even by Ada. Actually, Elrond didn't even think of Father as Ada. He said that they had another Father, but Elros couldn't remember him… and Gil-galad was the best father they could wish for.  
  
As the child neared the two, he saw something else. Elrond had been crying! Now Elros was really confused. 'rond never cried… well, almost never. He'd cried in the forest in Sirion, and occasionally here, but never when he thought someone was watching.  
  
Elros couldn't stand it. He realized that this would probably curtail his evening out of bed, but he had to know what was going on. "Ada, why brother crying?"  
  
Ada started. Apparently he'd been so deep in thought that he hadn't even heard Elros approach – or maybe he was getting better at the walking- silently stuff, the youngster thought proudly. Elrond was still better than him, of course. But he was older, too.  
  
"It's a long story," Ada said. That was what all the old people said when they didn't want to tell him anything. Either that or "you're too young, you don't understand yet." This time, however, Elros was determined to make Ada tell him why 'rond was crying, no matter what it took. He was prepared to interrupt, but Ada continued. "Do you remember your father? Not me, your real father?"  
  
Elros thought. Elrond spoke of Father very often, telling stories of the way things had been before the sons of Fëanor came to Sirion. Elros could hardly remember anything before the ruin, the fire, the flight into the forest… he shook his head. "'rond talk of him, but I don't remember." He really didn't. He remembered something of his mother – the way she used to stand at the window, looking out west to the sea, clutching that strange glowing jewel to her chest. He couldn't remember her looking at 'rond or him, just out to sea.  
  
"Well, today we heard what happened to him." Ada paused for a moment, Elros hanging on his every word. "Do you see that star up there? The bright one?"  
  
The young half-elf looked up. Yes, up there there was a bright star, hanging directly above him. It was beautiful, shimmering like mother's jewel used to, before she went away. "Yes," Elros said and nodded. What exactly did this have to do with his father?  
  
"Your father turned into that star." Elros gave a small squeak. A star? His real father had gotten turned into a star? His imagination began searching for an answer wildly. Maybe he'd turned into a bird, like 'rond claimed mother had? But what bird glowed? Or maybe… maybe… he didn't know. "How someone turn into a star?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
"He is sailing in a ship. He carries a bright jewel, that's why he's glowing." Ah. That made sense – jewels could glow, mother's did after all. And Elros knew that his real father loved sailing, 'rond had told him. Elrond had spoken very often about their father, and how much he loved being in a ship. So – his real father was probably happy, after all he loved sailing, and now he could sail in the sky. That must be nice, sailing in the sky, and with a glowing jewel too. 'So why 'rond crying?' Elros thought, then realized he'd said it out loud.  
  
"Your father can never come back. He'll be sailing for the rest of time, and your brother misses him." The rest of time… something Elros couldn't imagine. He was only a few years old, after all, and the rest of time… that was sure to be at least a *hundred* years, or even more! A very, very long time. No wonder Elrond missed his Ada so much, if he wouldn't see him… ever… again. Never… a strange concept to a young Peredhil. Elros was pondering this when Ada said, ""Hush now, you're waking your brother. It's time for you both to go to bed."  
  
Normally Elros would've started running around that time – he wasn't that tired! But he was worried about his brother. Suddenly a memory flashed through his head…  
  
^^^  
  
'rond was lying on a bed, face as pale as the white sheets, dark hair spread out around him. Many adults were standing around him, looking serious and worried. Elros stared at his brother. 'What's wrong with him? Why isn't he waking up?' He ran from adult to adult, but they shook him off, mumbling something about "not now." He was nearly in tears when he came to a tall figure standing near his brother and tugged at his sleeve.  
  
The elf turned around, apparently ready to snap at whoever had interrupted him. The expression on his face changed when he saw the child standing there looking up at him. "What's wrong, little one?" he asked.  
  
Elros sniffed. "Why 'rond not wake up?" he said in a small voice.  
  
The adult looked surprised. "Did no one explain this to you?" Elros shook his head. "Well, you remember the forests outside Sirion, do you not?"  
  
Yes – the forests, where they'd stayed after the ruin of Sirion. "I 'member. We were there… very long time."  
  
"Well, you didn't have very much food… and your brother gave most of it to you. So now he's very sick, you see?" Elros nodded. "'rond get better soon?" he asked, worried for his brother.  
  
"Yes, he'll get better soon, but you'll have to take good care of him while he's recovering." Elros nodded again. "I will."^^^  
  
"Come along now." Ada drew him out of his thoughts. He followed Ada back to their room. He'd taken care of Elrond once before, he could now. It was almost always 'rond who took care of him, but if 'rond was sick again… he shivered looking at his brother's tearstained face. It was scary, seeing 'rond like this. The older brother was always the strong one, the one who watched out for his younger brother. 'Well, I can watch out for you too,' Elros thought defiantly.  
  
Elros' thoughts were interrupted when he felt something wet splash onto his cheek. He frowned, then looked upwards. Was it starting to rain? There wasn't a cloud in the sky, though. It was probably one of those mysteries the adults spoke of, the young elf decided and shoved the incident from his mind.  
  
Reaching their room, Elros sighed softly at the sight of the bed. But if he wanted to help his brother, he needed to make certain sacrifices. Elros climbed under the covers and felt sleep begin to pull him in. 'I must have been more tired than I'd thought…' He looked over to see Ada tucking 'rond in before falling fast asleep.  
  
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A/N: I don't think this one is as good as the other two povs, I did my best to show Elros' somewhat… childlike ;)… way of thinking, but I think it went wrong. Ah well… please review, tell me what to correct so my next fic is better. Eärendil's pov next, I *promise*!  
  
For those of you who don't know, Ada is Sindarin and means "dad" or "daddy". 


	4. Tears falling like rain

A/N: I am sooo sorry. I really, really meant to write this earlier. But then I had a writer's block, after that my parents dragged me on vacation, then school started again and nearly killed me (twelfth grade is sooo much harder than tenth) and then I had writer's block – AGAIN. To make a long story short, I was unable to write for several months and am starting again now.

On the positive side, I now have a copy of the Silmarillion and have read most of it. There's not much pertaining to Elrond and Elros there, just that they were adopted by Maglor (which I chose to change for the sake of the fic. Don't worry, you Fëanorion-fans, next ficcie is probably going to be about Maedhros or Maglor.) after Sirion, aren't mentioned for a while and then *suddenly* Elrond is dwelling with Gil-galad. Hm…

Finally, I have noticed that my language was not very Tolkien-ish in the last few chapters, i.e. use of contractions (don't, won't and similar). I will try to change this from this point on, and will probably go back and edit the previous chapters. I will also have to change the dialogue a bit… this may cause a distinct difference between the styles of the previous chapters and that of this one… sorry!

Thank you so much for your reviews, I am so sorry for not updating sooner… *hangs head in shame*

Now, here the long, rambling A/N ends.

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Far above Arda, a man shielded his eyes as he looked about in wonder. The void around him was cold and strange, yet filled with a radiance that had never before been seen by the denizens of Middle-Earth. Here Varda's stars shone brilliantly, their light glinting off the man's dark hair, making his pale skin glow silver. Eärendil threw his head back and laughed, hearing the sound echo amongst the stars. _Ai, I did love the Sea ere I came to Valinor, and could not imagine anything more glorious than it, in its wild, untamed beauty. Yet the Sea is nothing to the waves of light that I now sail, and the joy that filled my heart then nothing to what I feel now. Who would have thought that stars, mere pinpricks of light, be so brilliant up here in the sky? They near outshine the Silmaril that rests upon my brow._

At the last thought, Eärendil stopped laughing. He had never been able to understand people's fascination with the Silmaril – 'twas but a jewel, even if it shone with an unearthly light. Yet it was because of this jewel that Doriath had burned, and Elwing's father Dior had been slain and her brothers lost. It was because of this jewel that Sirion had been destroyed, with it many of Eärendil's friends and… his sons. Elrond and Elros, the two little boys that would never again see a sunrise or watch the dance of the stars at night. Elrond had loved to do that, he remembered. As soon as he could walk, he would clamber up to the windowsill to see the stars. Elros had been different, loving to play rough-and-tumble games… Eärendil choked back a sob, and forced his mind away from the two sons lost to him and back to the Silmaril, that most dangerous of all Fëanor's creations.

__

Here this jewel shall no longer bring suffering to my people, for it will ever be kept from those who covet it. The Kinslayers shall have to attack Morgoth to regain the two others – and may they perish in the deed!

Muttering darkly, Eärendil strode to the rail of his ship. Albeit the Kinslayers had done many horrible deeds, he had never wished harm on any Elf before and it troubled him, for he did not wish become like them. He peered over the edge to calm himself, then jumped back with a cry.

Eärendil knew that he was high in the sky, and that by rights he should not have been able to see anything of the lands below. Yet there, far beneath the keel of his ship, he could see a garden, bathed in starlight. Every leaf on every tree seemed as clear as if he was standing right before it, touching it even.

Although he did not mean to, Eärendil spoke, voice filled with disbelief. "What witchery is this?"

He started at the sound of his own voice, even more when he realized that the sounds he was hearing were not all the echos of his inadvertent statement. Indeed, if he listened carefully, he could hear voices…

"…messengers, bringing news of Valinor to the High King…"

"…'tis a fair night to be wandering outside, nay?"

"… but Ada, I told you it was Edhelech, not I!"

Elvish voices, echoing up through the emptiness. _But it is too far,_ Eärendil thought, astounded. _How can I see, how can I hear… a gift of the Valar perhaps, that I learn what goes on below me?_ Yet ere he could dwell on that thought, a remark caught his attention.

"…aye, Elros is restless tonight. I wager we shall be led on a merry chase ere we retire, _mellon_." 

Elros. His youngest son, who had been slain in the Sack of Sirion. Who _he thought _had been slain, for why else would they speak of him thus? _Elros is alive? My son is _alive? _How is this possible? And Elrond? What of Elrond?_

Eärendil peered over the railing eagerly, eyes searching the ground below. The garden seemed to be part of a palace, which was situated near the middle of a small city. Only a few people were out and about, mostly servants, although there were several smaller shapes. Eärendil's heart leapt every time he saw one of these, yet he was invariably disappointed. _How shall I recognize them now anyway…_ he thought miserably. _It has only been a few years since I saw them last – nearly no time to an elf – but they are so young. They will have changed._ Then a thought, like a shard of ice piercing his heart. _Have they forgotten me?_

Yet before that black thought could take root in his head, he saw a small figure run out of the palace and towards a tree in the garden. It turned its face up towards him, and Eärendil felt his heart skip a beat. That face, now filled with sorrow but once innocent and joyful… the stormy grey eyes, the straight dark hair pushed back behind slightly-pointed ears… _Elrond?_

Suddenly the young one began to cry, muffled sobs drifting up through the void. Eärendil started. _What is wrong, little one?_ he thought. Then he heard a word, choked out through tears. "Adar!"

Eärendil buried his face in his hands, unable to look at his son's tearstained face. _Adar… adar… _the word echoed in his thoughts. _Adar… they have certainly not forgotten you, _a voice from the darkest depths of his mind echoed mockingly._ Oh no, your eldest son weeps because you have left him. Yet what did you do for him when you were alive? Did you not spend more time on the sea than with your sons, Eärendil son of Tuor? What did you do to deserve this loyalty?_

Eärendil looked up, clenching his hands into fists. "Be quiet," he hissed. The voice, however, did not listen.

__

Do you not remember how lonely Elwing looked? How happy she was when you returned, how sad when you left her again? Do you not remember how little Elrond cried as you boarded your ship? How your people muttered, saying something about lords who they never saw, who abandoned them? And then, when they were attacked, where were you? On the Sea, as you always were when they needed you.

Movement below caught the tormented mariner's attention, and he looked back down towards his son just in time to see another person approaching the small, sobbing child. Eärendil frowned as the Elf picked Elrond up and embraced him tightly, whispering soothing words. He did not begrudge Elrond the comfort, yet he had to wonder about this strange Elf. Who was he? Why was Elrond with him? A feeling of protectiveness rose within him as he stared jealously down, the self-beratings of a moment ago forgotten.

Elrond had stopped crying and was breathing evenly, apparently asleep. The Elf who was holding him looked down at him in concern – at least in _what seemed like_ concern, Eärendil thought mistrustfully. After all, who knew what this person _truly _had in mind? Perhaps it was just an act, to… to… to control Elrond and Elros, who were after all the only surviving descendants of Elwë East of the Sea.

__

Or perhaps you simply cannot bear to think of someone being a better father to them, although they do deserve it..

"Ada, why brother crying?" The new voice, drifting upwards from the place he was watching, jerked him out of his thoughts. Below another, even smaller figure toddled towards Elrond and the Elf.

__

Elros? Eärendil was overjoyed at seeing his sons together, both apparently healthy and well. Yet the bitter thorn of jealousy bit at his heart… _Ada? He calls him _Ada?

The dark voice raised its head again. _Better him than you, like Elrond does. Would you have both your sons stare after a star?_

But… but… Eärendil was reduced to incoherence, sputtering silently.

"'Tis a long story." The adult Elf was responding to Elros' question, speaking softly and sorrowfully. Moreover, that smooth, melodious voice seemed familiar… Eärendil could not quite place it, but he was sure he had met this Elf before. 

"Do you remember your father? Not me, your real father?" the stranger continued.

"'rond talk of him, but I not remember."

The remark hit Eärendil like an arrow, and he stumbled back from the rail, gasping. _Has it truly been so long? Do you truly no longer remember me? Or perhaps you never did know me… Eru knows I spent not much time with you and your brother. I am so sorry, my son._

"Well, today we heard what happened to him… see you that star up there? The bright one?" The Elf lifted his face to nod upwards at Eärendil.

"Yes," Elros replied, nodding solemnly in the manner of children trying to appear wise and adult-like. Even feeling as torn as he was, Eärendil could not supress a smile at the sight – solemnity was not an expression that was often seen on Elros' face. Had not been, at least, for who knew what had happened? Again Eärendil felt a pang of sorrow. He had abandoned his children, leaving them for dead. Perhaps Elros laughed no longer? Perhaps Elrond was not the only one who wept? No, surely not… Eärendil ruthlessly banished these thoughts from his mind.

"Your father turned into that star." This pronouncement was met with wide-eyed disbelief from the child, and another smile from Eärendil. Whatever had happened between his last visit to Sirion and today, children would always be children.

"How someone turn into a star?"

"With a lot of luck, bravery, sheer daring, and foolishness, little one," Eärendil said out loud, revelling in the sound of his voice mixing with those from below. If he closed his eyes and spoke at _exactly_ the right moments, he could almost imagine he was speaking to one of the people he was watching, and they were answering… but alas, it remained a fantasy, and Elrond and Elros were forever removed from him.

"He is sailing in a ship. He is carrying a bright jewel, that is why he is glowing." Yet again his thoughts were interrupted by the three people below. Eärendil ran his hand through his hair, taking care not to snag it on the circlet that held the Silmaril. Why did this voice seem so familiar? It was not one he had heard often, not like Elwing's or his friend Eithel's… yet he remembered it. It belonged to… someone…

__

a crown, slightly too large for the one that bore it. Grey eyes filled with the exuberance and curiosity of youth, yet tempered with sadness and caution. A regal bearing in contrast to his slight frame.

Ereinion , High King of the Noldor.

Ereinion – Gil-galad, he called himself now. The young King had dwelt in Sirion for a short while ere leaving for the Isle of Balar, and had, during that time, made the acquaintance of Eärendil. Looking back, Eärendil could see that he had been far too young for the burden of kingship at the time, though of course it had not seemed so at the time – after all, Eärendil himself had been no older.

Ereinion son of Fingon. He had grown well indeed… the adult below had nearly nothing in common with the young King Eärendil had known so long ago.

"So why 'rond crying?"

Elros again, speaking curiously to the High King – his new Ada, Eärendil remembered with a grimace. He had nothing against Gil-galad as such, but as someone who wished to replace him regarding his sons… needless to say, Eärendil was much more skeptical about this.

"Your father can never come back. He shall be sailing for the rest of time, and your brother misses him."

Eärendil struggled to stifle the sobs rising within him. Ever since he had heard the word "Elros" from below, he had been trying to avoid thinking of this… yet here it was now, clearly spoken for all to hear. He could never go back. He might rant and rail at Gil-galad for being a father to Elros, he might weep for Elrond who wept for him, he might watch his sons grow from the children they were now to fine young men, watch them go about there own lives… watch. But he could never participate in their lives, he could never make himself heard. Only now did he truly realize the implications of the Doom Manwë had spoken onto him, no longer dazzled by starlight. He would never speak with his children again…

Eärendil wept, heedless of the words that reached his ears. Heedless of the three small figures re-entering the palace, his eldest son hugged against the chest of his new foster-father. Heedless of the tears falling like rain onto the ground far, far below...

A/N: Whoa! I never meant to write that much! I mean, that's *much* longer than the previous povs! I suppose Eärendil simply had a lot going through his head… (he appears to be mildly schizophrenic. Dear me, what do I *do* to these characters?). If the thoughts are somewhat confused or disjointed, sorry… I tried to make everything as clear as I could. Of course, Eärendil probably *is* extremely confused at the moment, so I have an excuse.

Adar – Father

Ada – Dad or Daddy


End file.
